


Jack Frost and the Tree of Life

by appending_fic



Series: Yer a Wizard, Jack [1]
Category: Brave (2012), Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen, Magic, Wizards
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-08
Updated: 2013-06-15
Packaged: 2017-12-10 20:31:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/789856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/appending_fic/pseuds/appending_fic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack Frost has grown up ignored and forgotten by his foster family. But this all changes when a mysterious man shows up on his doorstep with world-shaking news.</p>
<p>"Yer a wizard, Jack". Harry Potter fusion</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Very Surprising Birthday

Jack rolled out of bed just before dawn, as he was accustomed. The Overland’s home was quiet; Dr. Overland was a dentist, and didn’t believe in meeting patients before noon, and the other Dr. Overland was a scholar, and was frequently up until two or three before going to bed; as a result, she considered 11 in the morning to be the “middle of the night”.

The other children...wouldn’t be up yet. They were, perhaps, closer to being ordinary children than Jack was. Out of all of the foster children the Overlands watched over, Jack was the only one who took to his chores without complaint. He was the only one who never got teachers calling the house. The only one who didn’t make any sort of trouble at all, even if, for some of the children who cycled through the home, it wasn’t really acting out so much as the stresses and traumas that had led to them into the System.

Not that it mattered. For all that Jack was quiet and well-behaved, he might as well have been invisible. People looking to adopt seemed to have their attention slide off of Jack, and no one at school, or in the house, seemed to give him more than a second thought.

He began making breakfast, knowing that the smell would alert James, Peter, and the twins. They never questioned or thanked him, and he suspected the Overlands wouldn’t actually notice if their wards left the house without a proper breakfast. He sometimes thought the Overlands might actually believe they had hired a cook and forgotten about it, because they seemed to take it for granted that dinner just appeared at night.

At least they remembered to go shopping frequently, although cooking potluck was something of an adventure.

James was awake first; blearily rubbing at his eyes, the scrawny eight-year-old boy gave the kitchen a brief scan before slumping down at the breakfast table. He would remain there, only raising his head enough to eat, and waking up just in time to spend the last frantic minutes before the bus arrived finding his clothes and book bag. Jack heard shuffling on the floor above him; it was Peter, who was getting ready so he could spend every available moment before he had to leave for school stuffing his face. It was a wonder he wasn’t completely circular, but he spent enough time bounding after James and bouncing off of walls it probably made up for it.

An almighty crash that miraculously did not wake up the Overlands heralded the rousing of the twins. Gred and Forge (and Jack wondered if the twins were better off without the people who had saddled them with those names) seemed to run on nerves; they rarely stopped still long enough to eat, and at six, had a dangerous ingenuity that frightened Jack, sometimes.

This particular batch made Jack feel especially invisible. Once James woke up, he got into the proper spirit of being 8, and brilliant, and charming, with Peter dashing along after. The twins drew the focus of every adult in the room, as a defense mechanism. And then there was Jack: quiet, unnoticable, and unlikely to amount to anything.

The early morning ritual passed without more comment that usual; Jack had to change his clothes and shower after a gallon of orange juice ended up on his head, but that was a usual occurrence, in the chaos that was the four other children in the house. He didn’t herd the kids out to the bus stop, exactly. But they still always managed to leave in a tight knot for the Burgess primary school.

Jack paused as he stepped outside, however. There was a raven, huge and dark as midnight, sitting in the big tree outside the Overlands’. The creature let out a croak and turned to look at Jack. Jack had done a report on ravens last year, and he knew they were smart. Very smart. They could recognize faces and talked to each other.

So, even though Jack knew all of the superstition about ravens was wrong, it was unnerving to have one just staring at him.

“Come on; we’re going to be late, and then we’ll have to wake up Dr. Overland and they’ll complain all the way to school and maybe they’ll forget to feed us,” Gred (or Forge, Jack really couldn’t tell them apart at all) said all in one breath.

So Jack left with them, and had mostly forgotten about the raven until he return from school.

There were two ravens sitting on the tree, engaged in what seemed to be deep conversation. Jack just stared at them for a long moment.

One of them turned to look at him. It tilted its head, as if considering him.

“Jack Frost,” it snapped out.

Jack jumped and fled inside, slamming the door behind him. Once he was safe, he crept to the front parlor and peeked out the window. There were three ravens out there. They were all staring at the house.

He shivered. He knew ravens could be trained to talk. But it had to be his imagination that one had called him by name.

He tried not to mention it. The Overlands weren’t scary about it, but they were Protestants, which meant they probably didn’t approve of talking to ravens as some sort of sign of occult meddling.

The next morning, there were four ravens out there. And by Saturday, there were close to 20. This was a day of some note; it was Jack’s eleventh birthday.

Not that anyone noticed. Jack made himself a special birthday breakfast, knowing no one else would question the change in routine. And then he went outside to seek a few minutes of peace.

He went to the back yard, because the ravens were creeping him out. No one else seemed to notice them, or comment on it, which was almost convincing Jack he was imagining it.

He’d gotten ten feet from the door when a heavy flapping made him whirl around just in time to see a raven landing on the back porch. It cawed raucously before peering at Jack.

“Hi?” Jack asked uncertainly. He wasn’t certain if the bird understood, or if talking to it would be wise.

The bird shifted sideways, eyes never leaving Jack.

“Have you been following me?”

The bird cawed and then nodded.

Jack’s stomach twisted into a knot. He hadn’t expected a response...not seriously. Birds were weird; they didn’t need a sinister reason to hang around the Overlands’ house. But this...was seriously weird.

“Do you understand me?” Jack asked.

“Happy birthday!” the raven replied.

“What?”

“Many happy returns, Jack!” the raven added.

Jack continued to stare. This was beyond weird. This wasn’t possible. He tried to back away, but a series of caws alerted him to the presence of the remainder of the ravens behind him in a wide half-circle.

“I...are you a friend?” Jack asked.

“Bring message for Jack Frost,” the raven cawed. “On the occasion of his eleventh birthday!”

“And...what’s the message?” Jack’s tension eased a little at the raven’s coherent response.

“You’re going to have a visitor. From Santoff Claussen.”

“Santoff Claussen!” the other ravens crowed in unison.

“O...kay.” Jack circled the group, trying and failing to keep an eye on all of them at once. “And what’s...that?”

“I’ve got a message for Jack Frost,” the main raven repeated. “You’re going to Santoff Claussen.”

“And what’s Santoff Claussen?” Jack demanded.

The ravens took off in a flurry of feathers. Jack covered his face, but it was still like being battered with feather dusters. In a moment, the back yard was clear of birds, but Jack was understandably freaked out. Ravens were shouting at him about some place called Santoff Claussen. They’d wished him a happy birthday.

They knew his name!

But shouting to the Overlands wasn’t going to help. Presuming they even noticed, they wouldn’t believe it. So...Jack tried to imagine who he could ask for help. No one came to mind, no one who paid him enough attention that they’d help him with this problem.

“Jack? Jack?”

Jack snapped up his head, staring in disbelief at the back door. No one in the house ever went looking for him, much less calling for him.

“Jack!” Mrs. Dr. Overland stuck her head out of the door, scowling. “There’s someone here to see you.”

You’re going to have a visitor.

“Who is it?” Jack asked.

“How would I know?” Dr. Overland replied snappishly. “He just wants to see you.”

Jack followed Dr. Overland inside, moving with a growing sense of apprehension. Something weird was going on, but only in Jack’s head. No one noticed or seemed to care about any of it. Was this what going crazy felt like?

At the front door was a huge man, taller than anyone Jack had ever met, wearing a long red robe. He wore a heavy white beard, and looked almost entirely like Santa Claus.

Santoff Claussen...

“Hello, Jack,” the man said. He held out a hand. “It’s been a long time.”

“I...” Jack shook his head. “I’ve never seen you before.”

The man threw his head back and laughed. “Of course you have. I wouldn’t expect you to remember, though. You were this big,” and this was accompanied by the man spreading his thumb and pinkie as far apart as he could.

“Who...are you? And did you send those ravens?”

The man’s bright blue eyes twinkled at Jack. “Ravens? I don’t think so. But I did come to bring you a message, Jack. My name is Nicholas Saint North. I am the Charms teacher at Hogwarts.”

“Hogwarts...” Jack felt relieved that the ravens had obviously been speaking nonsense, even as he was more confused than he’d ever been. “What’s that?”

“What’s...Hogwarts, boy!” Nicholas Saint North roared. He glanced around conspiratorially, and leaned in close. “Why only the most prestigious school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world!”

“Prestigious?” Jack asked vaguely.

“Yes!” Nicholas replied. “You’ve been on the rolls since you were born.”

“I don’t think the Overlands would approve,” Jack said. It was the only response he could manage; he didn’t think he could strenuously argue that magic wasn’t real, not if the old man really thought it was. “And I’m not really sure I’ve got the...um, stuff.” He waved a hand vaguely.

“Ha! Of course you do! With the parents you had, to be born a Squib is unthinkable!” Nicholas’s wide smile faded a little. “Jack. You...you’ve noticed odd things sometimes. Things you couldn’t explain?”

Jack shook his head. The old man hadn’t recognized the ravens as anything, and it wasn’t like Jack was odd in any way.

But.

“What was it you said about my parents? The Overlands said no one knows what happened to them.”

“What?” Nicholas’ voice went flat and chilly. “They didn’t...what sort of monsters must they be? I left a letter! I remember exactly. Headmaster Ombric gave me the letter and told me to deliver it, and I put it right in my pocket here...”

He paused, pulling a long parchment envelope from a pocket in his robe. It was wrinkled and stained, but Jack could see the name ‘Overland’ written in elaborate script on it.

“Ah. Well. It seems we need to have a chat with your foster parents.”

Nicholas flushed and pushed his way inside. It took some time to convince both Overlands to sit, and then Nicholas hemmed and hawed over the announcement.

“The thing is, well, Jack is...it’s very hard to explain-”

“Mr. North says I’m a wizard,” Jack said.

“Ah,” Mrs. Dr. Overland said. “Is that all?”

“I presume you’ll be whisking him away to fulfill his epic destiny,” the male Dr. Overland said. “Will he be staying with us, or will you be escorting him to some hidden castle somewhere?”

“Wait - what?” Nicholas’ mouth was hanging open, and Jack had to admit the casual acceptance seemed out of place from the mild, bookish Overlands.

“Oh, come on,” Mrs. Dr. Overland said, rolling her eyes. “A child assigned to us without any warning, no record of his parents, where he entered the system, on All Saints’ Day? That had destiny written all over it. I’m just glad he’s actually got some talent, and won’t be expected to fight Dark Lords with only his wits.”

“We didn’t mention it, in case he turned out to be ordinary,” Mr. Dr. Overland said, leaning forward. “But we’ve been expecting something like this. A bit early, though, isn’t it?”

Nicholas shook his head, while Jack just stared at the Overlands. All this time, they’d suspected, and they hadn’t said anything? They hadn’t paid him a lick of attention in years, and all this time, they’d thought-

“We generally start schooling at 11,” Nicholas finally worked out. “We’d hope you’d take Jack during the summers, and the holidays, if he wants to come for those. But I was going to explain a few things to him, and take him shopping for his school things, first.”

“Understandable,” Mrs. Dr. Overland said, nodding her head. “Will we need to pay for the supplies? Tuition?”

Nicholas threw his head back, roaring in laughter. “Of course not! Jack’s got a...well, I don’t know all the details, but his parents had a lot of money.” He hunched his shoulders a little, leaning close to them. “You’ve been getting the support checks, right?”

“Parchment envelopes? A seal with a goblin on it? Signed by someone named...Grotzkook or something?” Mr. Dr. Overland asked. When Nicholas nodded, he nodded in response. “We always wondered about that.”

Nicholas nodded slowly, mouth still slightly agape. Jack felt something of the same way; the Overlands had such an amazingly obtuse view of the things that happened to them. They’d been getting letters from wizards, and hadn’t questioned it. They’d raised a child they believed to be a foundling with a world-shaking destiny, and they hadn’t mentioned it.

But on that note...

“Mr. North? Do I have an epic destiny?” Jack asked.

“Ah! Later,” Nicholas said. “Dr. and Dr. Overland, if I can bring him back before dinner...”

“Oh! Yes, go ahead,” Mrs. Dr. Overland replied.

Five steps out of the house, Nicholas paused, looked around carefully, and, taking Jack’s hand, stepped forward with a spin that dragged them through a tunnel the size of a straw, navel-first. The sensation was entirely new to Jack, so he wondered if he’d gotten it right. But when the movement was complete, Jack and Nicholas stood in a wide street bounded by shops, advertising such diverse items as owls, cauldrons, and racing brooms. Men and women dressed in flowing robes bustled up and down the street. Jack stared.

“Welcome to Diagon Alley,” Nicholas said proudly, spreading his hands to either side. “Home of some of the most distinguished shops in all of the Wizarding world. It’s where you’ll be getting your school supplies. But first, well, we’ve got to discuss a few things. Come on.”

He led Jack to an ice-cream parlor, bought him a cone of Wonka’s Never-Melt Ice Cream, and set him down at an out-of-the-way table. Jack watched through the whole process. The white-haired man, somehow, stayed between Jack and almost everyone they saw, creating a wall that blocked Jack’s view of all of the people on the street.

“Now, Jack, you wonder what has happened, that you become orphan, living among non-magical doctor foster parents. Is very long story, happened many years ago. There was a man...a wizard of great power, fearsome. The Dark Lord, he called himself, and he gathered followers to terrorize the wizards and non-magical folk alike. Your parents were among those who fought him. Me, too. The Guardians, we called ourselves. Ah, what times we had, when not bound up in fighting.” Nicholas’ expression went distant and fond as he stared into the distance. “Still, the time came when the Dark Lord began to hunt his greatest enemies. He came to the home your parents lived in and killed them.”

The words hit Jack like a blow, the simple explanation wrapping up everything that had ever plagued Jack’s childhood imaginings. His missing parents had been taken from him, killed by a wizard of unimaginable power.

“And then, Jack, he tried to kill you.”

Jack’s chest tightened. “He didn’t just let me live out of the goodness of his heart,” he said flatly.

“No. No one knows what happened, Jack, but your home was destroyed, the Dark Lord destroyed, and you escaped without a mark. He used a curse, Jack, that cannot be blocked or countered. He used a curse that kills every creature it touches...except you.”

He poked Jack’s forehead with his forefinger before leaning back and giving Jack a wide smile. “And so you have been hidden away, Jack, away from all the people who would hound and pester you for saving them from the Dark Lord.”

Jack stared. He knew he was supposed to be upset. And he was. But it was just so much to take in. He was a hero among wizards, admittedly for something he couldn’t remember, but...

“I’m famous?”

“Oh, yes! There’s not a witch or wizard alive who doesn’t know your name,” Nicholas confirmed. “Is why I tried-”

Jack poked his head over Nicholas’ shoulder to wave at someone when it hit him - while people knew his name, no one knew what he looked like. He slumped back down into his seat. “So, what now? Shopping?”

“Gotta get your wand, your books, and the lot,” Nicholas said. “But do you need a moment?”

“No,” Jack said firmly. “Let’s do this thing.”


	2. Diagon Alley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wands, robes, and a chance encounter.

The wizard bank was almost disappointing. Sure, it looked fancy, like banks everywhere, and was staffed by goblins. But Jack waited in line for half an hour before getting an attendant, and Nicholas vanished shortly after the goblin started explaining Jack’s accounts.

“And although you won’t have access to the majority of the trust until you turn 18, separate trusts are set aside for your living expenses and schooling. Your annual stipend comes out to something like 1,000 Galleons-”

“Are those real gold?”

The goblin looked over its nose down at Jack. “Do you know the word ‘arbitrage,’ Mr. Frost?”

“Um...no?”

“Suffice to say, we have not included actual precious metals in our coinage since 1929,” the goblin concluded.

Nicholas appeared at Jack’s side, apparently finished with his own business. “Are we done?”

The goblin’s scowl softened slightly. “I was just explaining to Master Potter the principles of arbitrage-”

“Ah. Very good. Maybe we could save economics lesson until he is older. He needs money for school. Ah...150 Galleons should last him at least a term.”

The goblin glanced at Jack, who nodded quickly rather than enduring more of the lecture on money, and after receiving a heavy bag from the goblin, left the bank.

The first stop, Nicholas insisted, was for Jack’s wand. There was no name on the shop, which looked half-abandoned and all-filthy. Jack’s hands itched at they stepped inside to the dusty interior. He wanted to clean the place. He turned to ask Nicholas a question when a tiny woman with wild white hair and glimmering gold eyes popped into his vision, inches from his face.

“Yeargh!” Jack recoiled, heart speeding into a sprint at the surprise. The woman laughed.

“Oh, you’re a feisty one, Jack,” she chortled. She tapped her humongous nose, still chuckling. “But you’re not here to amuse an old lady, unless you are?”

Jack glanced at Nicholas, who shook his head hurriedly. “I’m here for a wand...Miss...?”

“Of course you are,” the woman said smoothly. “When a young lad needs a stick whittled out of wood, of course he goes to the best woodcarver in all of the world.”

“Um...” Jack didn’t know how to ask if this woman was actually giving him a wand, or just a stick of wood. Maybe this was some sort of wizard hazing ritual.

“Now!” She grabbed Jack’s right arm and forced it up. “Let’s see...” She sighted along the arm, squinting as she did so. “Wiry. Sort of limp.” She shook Jack’s arm, frowning at its movements. “Not the best I’ve seen. Let’s see what I’ve got in the back.”

What followed was the most confusing thing Jack had ever experienced. She would hand Jack a stick between eight and fourteen inches long, and then snatch it away again almost instantly. This passed for close to an hour, the woman growing more and more frantic before she exploded out of the back room holding a whippy, pale wand.

“Aspen wood, with a core of loon feathers,” the woman announced. “Thirteen inches. Strange. Idiosyncratic. But I think...”

She handed it to Jack, who took it with the same indifference he had the last two dozen. But when he laid his hand on the wand, it grew cool to the touch; a frigid burst of air gushed from it, sending small papers flying about the shop.

The old woman laughed. “That’s the one, Jack! You can feel it, right?”

Jack stared at the wand. He’d felt a surge of something through his arm when he’d touched the wand. He had to guess it was magic, although, well, he’d expected something more conscious, controlled.

“Ah, look at you,” Nicholas chortled, slapping Jack on the back. “I remember finding my wand, was like real magic, none of that accidental stuff.”

“I...” Jack glanced between Nicholas, the old witch, and his wand, feeling a flutter in his stomach. “And I can do things just by waving it?” He waved the wand a few more times, with increasing frustration until one of the lamps shattered.

“Ah!” Nicholas pushed Jack’s arms down to his side. “Why don’t we save that until you get little more practice? Now, let’s pay the nice lady and go find you your robes.”

As they emerged from the shop, Jack waited a few moments before turning to Nicholas. “Is that lady crazy?”

Nicholas laughed. “All wizards are a little crazy, Jack. But her...she is brilliant. Best wands in the world. Now, come on. Let’s look for robes.”

He vanished again after depositing Jack in a clothing shop where a squat witch set an animated tape measure on Jack. She bustled away after a minute, leaving Jack with something that could possibly strangle him.

After a few moments, the bell rang as a lanky boy with a few inches on Jack stepped inside. His shoulder-length hair was sandy and messy, skin weathered and dark, and when he saw Jack, he wrinkled his nose with impressive skill.

“Allo, mate,” he said to Jack.

“Um, hi?”

The other boy hopped up to a stand next to Jack and held his arms out; another tape measure appeared and began measuring him. “Going to Hogwarts?” the boy asked.

“Yeah.”

“Ah, look at you all worked up! No worries, mate. Shark biscuit or no, she’ll be all right.”

“What?” Jack asked.

The other boy snickered. “Just having a go at you, mate. Now, what House’ll you be in?”

Jack shrugged, suddenly feeling less like a celebrity and more like someone lost at sea.

“Getting into Gryffindor’d be ace, of course. Wouldn’t mind Hufflepuff; they’ll always give blokes a fair go. Not enough of a conch for Ravenclaw. Of course, I’d off myself if I got into Slytherin. Wouldn’t you?”

Jack shrugged. “I don’t know. It doesn’t sound all that bad.”

The other boy snorted. “If you want to hang out with those dipsticks...”

Jack bristled. He’d been mostly ignored at school, but had witnessed the boys who pushed around the smaller, weaker, effeminate, or just different ones. The other boy’s casual dismissal of a group of kids rankled at Jack’s sense of fairness.

The proprietor reappeared before Jack could give the other boy a piece of his mind; the boy responded to the witch’s questions with a few incomprehensible replies, and then she turned to Jack.

“Would you like anything formal, lad?” she asked. Jack glanced at the other boy, who was making a disgusted sort of face, so Jack nodded.

“Yes, please.”

The other boy snorted. Jack tried to ignore it. The witch summoned a few robes that she altered with a few flicks of her wand, and then packed them to present them to Jack.

“There you go, Mr. Frost,” she said, as Jack paid. He slipped out of the door, privately pleased to see the other boy’s shocked look, green eyes as wide as saucers.

When Jack stepped outside, a familiar croak made him freeze in place.

“Jack Frost!”

“Hohohoho! He knows your name, Jackie!”

Jack stared at the scene. Nicholas was holding up a cage containing a large raven. The bird tilted its head at Jack before letting out another croak.

“Jackie! Jackie Jackie!” it said.

“I got you a birthday present, Jack,” Nicholas said, grinning. “I thought owl at first, but ravens are much smarter. And supposed to be much wiser than plain old owls. Do you like it?”

Jack stared at the raven, who flapped his wings momentarily before croaking at Jack. The raven wasn’t so scary on his own. It was the dozens of ravens chanting about Santoff Claussen that was unnerving. And the raven’s wing was sort of cool; it shimmered all sorts of colors when it moved.

“Yeah,” Jack said. “It’s great.”


	3. Trains, Planes, and Automobiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack meets more wizards, and starts to suspect they actually all are crazy.

Jack stared at the ticket. He’d read it a million times since Nicholas had given it to him, and Platform 9 ¾ made absolutely no sense. He’d had to remind the Overlands three times to get him to King’s Cross, and he was still going to miss the train.

“Leave me alone, mum. Mum. Mum!”

“Merida! I am your mother, and you will respect that. Now stand up straight; I won’t have you embarrassing the Dunbroch name at Hogwarts.”

“Muuuum! If I’m waddling around in corsets and skirts everyone’ll think I’m a stuck-up pureblood prig!”

A red-haired girl in, yes, a flared green skirt and bodice that probably was cutting off her circulation, appeared, trailed by an elegant brunette woman who moved with much greater ease than the girl, who was practically waddling in her clothing. With the frizzy halo of red hair, she looked a little like a penguin with an afro.

“There’s nothing wrong with being proud of your heritage, Merida. The Dunbrochs stretch back to the founding of Hogwarts. You should be proud of that heritage; it doesn’t make you like those insensitive arses.” The woman tugged the girl around and straightened her skirt.

Jack stepped closer, tugging his trunk behind him. That was the second time they’d mentioned Hogwarts.

“Excuse me,” he said, drawing both of their attention. “I heard you mention Hogwarts, and I was wondering if you knew how to get to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.”

“Of course.” The woman’s right hand drifted away from her left sleeve and she smiled gently at him. “Go on, Merida, show him how it’s done.”

The girl grinned and pulled up the sleeves of her dress, earning a wince from the woman. “Alright, the trick is to run at it like you just don’t care. Like this.”

Pushing a cart ahead of her, Merida ran at the barrier, vanishing through it rather than crashing into the wall.

The woman sighed. “Always so dramatic. Come on, you can escort me through, and we’ll go at a respectable pace.” She angled her arm and Jack, who’d seen plenty of movies, took it rather than making the woman look silly. “I am Elinor of Clan Dunbroch, and you’ve seen Merida.”

“Jack Frost,” Jack replied. The woman didn’t squeal or look shocked, but merely raised an eyebrow. They slipped through the barrier before she answered, and Jack stopped, distracted, at the sight of the fire truck-red steam engine billowing smoke into the air. Hundreds of families were scattered around it, chattering and laughing. It was amazing, and it held Jack rapt for a silent moment.

“Well, Jack, I hope you enjoy your time here,” Elinor said, patting his shoulder. “You should board.”

She drifted over to Merida, who tried to wave Elinor off but instead appeared to be on the receiving end of a lecture about...decorum, Jack suspected. He gave the scene one last look before trudging to the train. No one seemed to pay him much attention, which made navigating the crowd easy.

Inside the train it was darker, and much more crowded. Jack was fighting his way past a group of students when he heard a voice rising over the hubbub.

“And then she calls him Mr. Frost-”

“No way, Aster!”

“Fair dinkum, mate,” the boy from the shop, Aster, apparently, replied. “I - holy dooley! There he is!”

There were suddenly a dozen eyes fixed on Jack. He felt a little surge of rebelliousness. Sure, he’d been excited to find he was famous, but having this kid act like he had a right to talk about Jack...

“He doesn’t look like much,” said one kid.

“Are you really Jack Frost?” another asked.

Jack shrugged. “I think your friend’s mistaken me for someone else. G’day, mates.” He walked through the group, waited until he was certain all the boys had looked away before he looked back and winked at Aster, before dashing down the train’s hallway, giggling.

He darted into a compartment, slamming the door behind him.

“You should knock; I could have been naked in here.”

Jack glanced back into the compartment; a stocky girl was stretched out on one of the benches. She wore her brown hair short, not even shoulder length, and was watching Jack through half-lidded eyes. She wore a pink dress and what looked like combat boots.

“Why would you be naked on a train?” Jack asked.

The girl shrugged. “Who knows? But I never open a door without knocking, just in case.”

Nicholas’ statement came back to Jack at that moment. Almost every wizard’s a little crazy...

“Do you mind if I sit here?” Jack asked.

“Go ahead. Just take the other bench. I’m not sharing until I have to.”

Jack hefted his trunk up to the racks and gingerly sat down across from the girl. She seemed content to remain completely silent. Jack cleared his throat.

“Um...what’s your name?”

“You can call me Cupcake,” the girl replied.

“Cupcake?”

“Yeah, Cupcake.” The girl’s fierce look, combined with wrinkling her whole face, looked a little frightening. “Even my parents call me Cupcake.”

“O...kay.”

“And what’s yours?”

“Jack,” Jack said. “Um, Frost.”

“Hmph,” Cupcake said. “Bound to happen sooner or later.” She sat up and squinted at Jack. “You don’t look like much.”

Jack watched as Cupcake settled back down. “You don’t seem impressed.”

Cupcake shrugged. “Look, don’t take offense, but I generally don’t think one-year-olds have the skills to defeat dark lords. Now, whatever your parents or whoever else did to keep the Dark Lord from killing you was worth getting excited over.”

Huh. Jack hadn’t quite thought of it that way, but...it was a little silly to think that he’d had anything to do with the Dark Lord’s defeat.

“Still, you’re gonna have to be careful around here. Everyone’s going to want a piece of you-”

“Oof!” The door slid open to reveal Merida, lugging three gigantic bags after her. She took one look at the compartment and stepped in, hefting up the first bag without comment. Jack scrambled to his feet to help her with the remaining ones.

When he picked up the second at the same time Merida got the third, she gave him a narrow-eyed, suspicious look before her face broke into a grin.

“If it isn’t the nervous little brat! Good to see you again!” She lobbed the third bag up and held out a hand. Jack reached out to shake it, surprised at Merida’s grip, which nearly broke a bone in his hand. “I’m Merida Dunbroch.”

“Jack Frost.”

“I know that,” she scoffed. “My mum had a nice little talk about how important it is to make connections with important wizards, so I can get a leg up in life.” She rolled her eyes. “Thought I’d see what the fuss was about.” She leaned in close and poked Jack’s forehead. “You don’t look like much.”

“Thanks for the compliments,” Jack said. With a jolt, the train began moving, and Merida let out an explosive sigh.

“Finally free!” she crowed, throwing her arms wide and nearly slapping Jack. Cupcake snorted, earning a suspicious look from Merida. Jack just shook his head.

“Do you not get along with your parents?” Jack asked.

Merida exhaled sharply. “I wouldn’t say that. My pa’s great. It’s just...I’m from a long line of pureblood wizards. All the way-”

“Back to the founding of Hogwarts,” Jack completed, flushing a little at Merida’s glare in response. “I overheard you and your mother outside the platform.”

“Anyway,” Merida continued, “My mum’s obsessed about how I’m supposed to act to uphold our good name. And don’t even get me started about the betrothals.”

“Ah, betrothals,” Cupcake sighed. “I’ve had six meetings, and every one’s found some reason to flat-out refuse.”

“Why?” Jack asked.

Cupcake stared at Jack, slack-jawed, and even Merida gave him a sidelong glance.

“Ah...”

Merida chuckled. “Looks like Jack’s going to be a charmer. Come on, let’s stop talking about that fussy stuff. We’re going to Hogwarts!”

“It’s not going to be all fun and games,” Cupcake lectured.

Merida just rolled her eyes. “Of course it isn’t. But it will have Quidditch.”

“Quidditch?”

Merida spun around, eyes wide in affected shock at Jack’s question. “You’ve never heard of Quidditch? You poor lad! Let me explain...”

That took up the next hour of the train ride, and Jack had to admit, even if he didn’t quite get the Golden Snitch thing (Merida tried to explain its importance in League play, but still...), flying sounded like...well, amazing. He wouldn’t mind trying out for a Quidditch team to get a chance to fly.

Cupcake had done her best to ignore the whole conversation, flipping open a brightly-colored magazine at the beginning of it. When Merida began winding down, she shoved herself back upright.

“So, houses?” she asked.

At this point, the door opened to reveal a blond boy, standing confident and upright, and flanked by two hulking boys. The boy’s grey eyes lit up at the scene.

“Is Aster just mouthing off, or are you really Jack Frost?” the boy demanded.

Merida and Cupcake turned, slowly, to look at the boy. Cupcake wrinkled her face, offering a scowl.

Merida, though, raised an eyebrow. “One generally introduces oneself before baring into another’s conversation,” she said coolly. “Although blond hair, trailing bodyguards, and an insufferable expression - you must be a Malfoy.”

“Red hair, clothes three hundred years out of fashion, and a stick up her arse - you must be a Dunbroch,” the blond retorted.

Jack was halfway standing, one hand clenching while he considered if just yelling would be good enough, or if he’d need to hit the blond, when Merida exploded into giggles and the blond snorted in amusement.

“What’s it been, Malfoy, two years?” Merida asked.

The blond’s lips quirked. “Father still talks about how your oaf of a father broke half the china.”

“Da still talks about how yours is an insufferable, intolerant bore, so, fair enough.”

Jack bounced his gaze back and forth between Merida and the blond, feeling thoroughly lost. He tried clearing his throat, which drew both speakers’ gazes.

Both flushed a little, but Merida slid aside, gesturing at Jack. “Malfoy, this is Jack Frost. This is Draco Malfoy, another member of an old, established family.”

“Cupcake,” Cupcake said from her side, raising a hand in greeting.

Draco snorted. “No one’s going to take you seriously, Stratford, if you keep using that name.”

Jack raised a hand; Cupcake, about to respond, snapped her mouth shut, and Merida and Draco gave him odd, skeptical looks.

“Yes?” Draco asked, a touch snottily.

“Do you know each other?”

“Och, all the old families know each other,” Merida said. “Meeting up for parties, attempts at betrothals-”

“Keeping up the old ways,” Draco interjected, earning a disgusted face from Merida.

“Yeah, keeping up the old ways,” she said. “Have we ever met, Cupcake?”

“Don’t think so,” the slouching girl said. “Seen your picture; I think Mrs. Zabini was in negotiations with your mother and had your official portrait.” She snickered.

“Like yours is any better,” Merida snapped.

Cupcake snorted. “We’ve got a few years yet, anyway.”

“In any case,” Draco said, talking over the end of Cupcake’s statement, and abruptly all smiles, albeit directed at Jack. “While I can see you’ve fallen in with acceptable company, you might be wise to take up some expert advice on the subject.” He reached out a hand to Jack.

“Um,” Jack glanced at Cupcake and then back at Draco. “I think I’ll do fine on my own, thanks.”

Behind him, Jack heard a rapid, repeated whisper. “Shakehishandshakehishankshakehishand.”

Jack reached out to Draco, uncertainly grasping the other boy’s hand. Draco gave him a polite smile as they shook, and then Draco departed with a casual, “ta!”

When Jack looked back at Merida, she had both hands pressed up into her face and leaning back along the bench of her side of the compartment. “Ach, Jack, we have got to get you some etiquette lessons.”

“What? Why?”

“You’re a prominent member of the wizarding world,” Cupcake said, “regardless of what hole you crawled out of. Things like that are going to get very bad for you if you don’t know how to behave.”

“But you were making fun of him!” Jack protested, pointing at Merida.

She shrugged nonchalantly. “I know how I’m supposed to behave, Jack. If I offend someone, it’s because I mean to. You, though, better know how you’re ought to behave before you offend someone.”

Jack glanced at Cupcake, who didn’t look particularly sympathetic to his plight. “What can I say? She’s right.”

The two girls fixed twin glares at Jack, who felt a sort of lingering resignation. Sure, he knew he was going to Hogwarts to learn, but etiquette? He didn’t even know why Merida had been muttering at him to shake Draco’s hand!

A knock came at the compartment door, and an older girl in black robes and a yellow scarf poked her head in. “We’re not too far out, firsties. Get changed before we arrive.”

Cupcake offered Jack a smirk. “See? I told you someone might have been naked in here!”

“God, it’s like being back at the castle all over again,” Merida moaned.


End file.
